


Inevitable

by Gia279



Series: Practice Ficlets [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anniversaries, Established Relationship, Extremely Minor Angst, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Werewolf Derek, sorcerer!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279
Summary: Prompt:“Something!Stiles and werewolf!Derek, supernatural is unknown to humans. They’ve been dating for a while and Stiles is stressing out about telling Derek what he is, assuming he is human and that he will freak when he knows the truth”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Practice Ficlets [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/945135
Comments: 18
Kudos: 327





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't read this, or tried to edit it, i have no idea if it's readable, I just wanted to write something short and inconsequential to practice these things again <3

Stiles stared at his phone, fingers clutched tight and bloodless around the edges. The screen went black, but the image of the reminder was burned into his eyes, hovering like a ghost.

“Two years!!!!” Two years of dating, one of living together, and Stiles still hadn’t told Derek about himself. He’d promised himself that he would if they reached one and a half years, but they’d crossed that line six months ago. He’d _tried_ , but once he got Derek sitting down, serious and grim, he couldn’t do it. He’d stammered something about rearranging their furniture and Derek had let out a sigh, relieved, and Stiles…

Stiles was still learning how to be a sorcerer. He didn’t know how to tell Derek, when, as far as Derek knew, sorcerers were things of fiction, fairy tales. 

He finally set his phone down and rubbed his face. 

“Anything good?” Scott asked, nodding at his phone. He was in the cubicle across from Stiles, taking calls to supply tech support for their local ISP.

Stiles smiled weakly. “Just, uh, our—my two year anniversary, uh, with Derek.”

Scott beamed. “That’s awesome! Are you doing anything special?”

Stiles thought of telling Derek about the existence of the supernatural, then having to prove to him that no, he’s not crazy, and yes, he has magic. “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe dinner?” he squeaked. 

Scott nodded sagely. “Maybe you could bring flowers, too.”

“Good idea. Your line is ringing.” He turned back to his desk. 

The thing was, Stiles wasn’t supposed to go around telling people these things. But he was serious about Derek, with serious, capital letter feelings, and—if it went on much longer and Derek found out he was a sorcerer and couldn’t handle it, Stiles would be devastated. So he was already in too deep, but he’d rather know now before he got in even deeper. Or that was what he told himself, but anxiety still twisted in his gut for the rest of the day. 

He took his time packing up his bag—because he couldn’t tell Derek he was a sorcerer until he got home, and he couldn’t go home until his bag was packed. 

A message pinged on his phone.

Dread coiled under his ribs. He exhaled shakily when he saw the message. 

_Meet me in the parking lot?_

He tucked his phone away and shouldered his bag at last. 

Derek was waiting in the parking lot, leaning against the Camaro, watching the doors and then smiling when Stiles walked out. 

It was his slow-blooming smile, the one that started tucked in the corner of his mouth and spread to his eyes when they looked at each other. 

Stiles swallowed. He couldn’t lose him.

He couldn’t keep lying to him.

“Hey.” Derek leaned in for a kiss, light and sweet as whipped cream. “I thought I’d pick you up today so we could get dinner together.”

“Oh? Nothing fancy, I hope.” He gestured at his wrinkled work clothes.

Derek grinned. “No, not too fancy. You’re perfect.” He kissed the corner of Stiles’s mouth and opened the passenger door for him. 

Stiles got in, and hoped he still thought so after he told him the truth. “So where are we going?”

Derek smiled while facing the road. “Not far. How was your day?”

“Oh, the usual. Got yelled at a few times for things I have no control over.” He filled the car with his most memorable tales of the day, embellishing the finer details for comedic effect and basking in Derek’s laughter. He trailed off mid-story as they pulled into the parking lot of Bek’s Kitchen, the tiny burger place close to their school—and location of their first meeting.

Derek looked giddy. “It’s not fancy, but we haven’t been here in forever. I thought for our anniversary, we could have dinner here.”

Stiles managed a smile. “That’s a great idea.” The diner was also the first time Stiles had accidentally done magic in front of Derek. He’d been doing his homework, frustrated, and had finally gotten up to ask for more coffee—only to run straight into Derek and cause him to spill his tray of coffee and food. Stiles had reacted with his most perfected spell: a freezing spell that allowed him to steady the tray and right the cups and plates before anything crashed to the floor or Stiles’s laptop. From Derek’s point of view, he’d caught everything in the blink of an eye. He’d commented about Stiles’s reflexes, with that wide, charming grin he used when he wanted something, and had asked if he could sit with Stiles. 

Derek liked to call it their first date, though Stiles insisted that was when they went to the movies a week later, where he hadn’t done any incriminating magic. 

“Are you tired?” Derek asked midway through dinner—he’d chosen the booth they’d shared that first time, and their waitress, Lily, had already had their order ready: two burgers with all the toppings on the side, a packet of barbeque sauce tucked with the fries on Stiles’s plate, and one large strawberry milkshake with chocolate sauce drizzled on top when they arrived. 

Stiles took a long pull from his shake to buy time, examining Derek’s face. 

He looked excited, bright eyed and practically glowing. 

“Nope.” Stiles smiled back at him. “I’m ready to go wherever you want.” 

“Perfect.” He finished his dinner first and filled Stiles in on his day while he ate. “Ready?” he asked once he was done.

“Yep. Where to next?”

Derek grinned. “You’ll see.”

They arrived at Lake Howard fifteen minutes later, and Stiles had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing out loud. The last time they’d been here, a campfire had spread to some towels, and Stiles had put it out from twenty feet away before it could damage more than the edges of the towels. Derek, standing next to him, had commented how lucky that was. The campers had been baffled and grateful and most importantly, unharmed. 

Stiles wondered, as Derek locked the car and took his hand, if this was a sign from the universe that it was time to tell him.

Or a sign that he should keep hiding it.

“Remember those campers last time we were here?” he asked, squeezing Stiles’s hand. 

He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Uh…”

“Their towels caught on fire,” Derek prompted. “We were by the water when they started screaming?”

Stiles looked over at the water to buy time. “Huh, I must’ve forgotten. You _did_ distract me that day. A lot.”

“Hmm.” Derek dropped it, but Stiles worried about it, all the way to the far end of the lake, where sand turned to loose rocks, tangled branches, and rotting logs. Derek backed him up against one of the large, sun-warmed boulders and nuzzled against his cheek, lips skimming his jaw, his neck, his chin, before touching gently against Stiles’s mouth, brief and delicate as moth wings. “I love you,” he murmured. 

Stiles squeezed his fists in Derek’s shirt and made himself meet his eyes, warm and entirely focused on him. “I love you, too,” he said, voice shaking. _I don’t want to lose you._

“Are you okay?” Derek leaned back so he could see his face. 

Stiles pulled up a smile. “Of course. I just wish I’d have planned something for you.”

“I only want to spend time with you. I don’t need anything else.” He kissed Stiles’s forehead. 

His eyes stung. He looked away, inhaling shakily. “Derek,” he croaked, “I need-”

“Wait,” Derek said quietly. “We have one more place to go.”

“Okay, but I really—I really have to talk to you.”

He pulled back, catching Stiles’s hands and kissing them. “One more place, then we can talk.” He pulled Stiles away from the boulder by the hand and back up the beach. “I just really think we should visit some of these places.”

“Memory lane?”

“Something like that.” He turned to smile at Stiles over his shoulder. The easy smile on his face and the sun setting behind him took Stiles’s breath away. 

Stiles squeezed his hand. He could tell him at home. At least that was somewhere private. 

Derek drove them to a park near their apartment, and Stiles shut his eyes. He remembered the park—it’d only been six months ago, after all. As he parked the Camaro, Derek asked, “Remember the snow?”

“Yep,” he squeaked, clenching his hands in his lap. He’d been trying to build up to telling Derek all weekend, and he’d thought a practical demonstration would help his case. His mastery of weather spells, however, was not great, especially when he was nervous, and he’d turned the gentle, fluffy snowflakes that’d already been falling into a white out. By the time he’d frantically calmed it, the snow was almost knee deep. 

They’d made snowmen and had a snowball fight with the neighbor kids until evening.

“Stiles,” Derek sighed. He turned in his seat instead of getting out, so they were facing each other. 

It took him a moment to meet his gaze, nerves making him twist his fingers together in his lap. “Yeah?”

“Something’s wrong. Why are you worrying so much?”

Stiles looked over the park, watching the lights flickering on around the walking track, illuminating the benches as evening crept toward night. _Just tell him._ He could get it over with here. At least they weren’t at home; he wouldn’t have to see Derek’s horror or disbelief in their home, a place with so many good memories. He inhaled, fortifying himself, and looked at Derek. 

His face was soft with worry, brows furrowed, leaning in.

“Derek, I—I have to tell you-” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I have something I need to-to say.”

Derek rubbed his forehead, sighing. “Okay, but first I need you to _think_ about today.”

Stiles shook his head. “I did, I mean, I have—that’s why I need to talk to you. It’s been-” He clenched his hands together. “It’s been really, really great-”

Derek tensed. “Are you _breaking up with me_ -”

“No!”

“—because you’re too scared to tell me you’re a sorcerer?”

They stared at each other. Stiles inhaled. Exhaled. Finally managed, “What?”

Derek blinked at him. “You’re _not_ trying to break up with me?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. But, but we need to talk about that—that other thing.”

“You’re the one who hid it from me,” Derek pointed out. “I thought you just didn’t want to tell me, or you thought I knew about it already and just didn’t talk about it.”

“How would you know already?”

Derek’s brows furrowed again. “Because I can smell your magic?”

Stiles sputtered, “Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “It’s more subtle unless you’re using magic, but most werewolves can smell it.”

“Most _what?_ ”

They stared at each other again, for longer. Derek’s eyes were impossibly wide. “How did you not know?” he demanded at last. 

Stiles shook his head, dazed. “How was I supposed to know?! You never told me!”

“Because sorcerers just…sense it usually!”

Stiles’s face flushed hot. “I’ve only been—I’ve only known for, like, four years,” he admitted, embarrassed. “I got a late start with my training and I’m still learning.” He rubbed his eyes. “I can only study when—I was—” He shook his head. “I thought you’d think I was—crazy or messing with you or lying, so—that, and work, and classes, it’s been…slower than it could be.” He looked sideways at Derek. “Are you—are you really—?”

Derek’s eyes lit up gold, not unlike Stiles’s when he was doing an intense ritual, except his and Deaton’s eyes flashed electric green. 

“Wow.” Stiles looked down. “What did you do about—I mean, I never noticed, and full moons…?”

“I usually only have a little more energy than normal on full moons,” Derek said with a slow smile. “When you were busy, I’d go for a run or exercise.”

Stiles glanced at him, then snickered. “Oh. Right.” He thumped his head back against the seat. “Wow.”

“What?”

“Well, I spent all day—actually, all year—stressing about how to tell you this.”

“I know. Or I hoped I knew, that’s why I was doing this. Then I started to think maybe you were going to break up with me instead of just telling me, so I thought I could…I could show you that it was okay.”

Stiles laughed helplessly. “Here I thought I was getting a sign: you took me to every place I screwed up and almost exposed my magic.” He shook his head and stared out the window. He scrubbed his face. 

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yes, actually.” He turned to smile at him. “Thank you,” he said softly. He felt liquid inside, warm and relaxed and completely at ease. 

“Of course. I love you, and I wanted you to be comfortable telling me things.” He caught Stiles’s hand, kissing his fingertips. “Now you should show me some magic. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Stiles laughed. “I think we should go home first. My weather magic isn’t the best.”

He folded their fingers together and knocked their hands gently against the gear shift, smiling down and shaking his head. “I really thought you were going to dump me.”

Stiles squeezed his hand between both of his, heart hurting. “Never,” he promised. 

Four years later when Stiles proposed, he made good on that promise.


End file.
